


Stranger Than Fiction

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of fluff prompted by a discussion on the weekly TS chat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Than Fiction

It was Friday. The best day of the week, especially since Jim had the weekend off. He was still working desk duty going over cold cases, officially because of his knee, but actually because Blair still had two weeks to go at the Academy before they could be partners again. Two weeks and then life would be back to normal.

Jim whistled cheerily as he drove into work. Blair would be home for the weekend and there was a Jags game on TV tonight. He foresaw a relaxing evening watching the game, eating pizza and popcorn, and drinking beer.

There was no way he could have foreseen what was actually in store for him.

***

Mid morning, he took the stairs down two levels to the cafeteria. He’d added a couple of pounds while his knee really had been interfering with his activity levels and it was proving more difficult to drop them again while he was still chained to a desk. Sign of age, he thought, but wasn’t overly troubled by it. Once he was back on the street he’d shed the extra weight soon enough.

He took his coffee and doughnut to a table away from the windows, preferring to keep clear of the crowded tables there. He’d taken a bit of a backlash over the whole sentinel thing and Blair’s press conference at first. It had died down after a few weeks, but Jim preferred not to mingle. That way nobody could ask him awkward questions.

Jim heard them coming long before a shadow fell over the table. He looked up, repressing a sigh. It was three of the guys from Vice. After his time, of course, but there were still a few in the department who knew him. He had a bit of a rep.

“Ellison.” Rinaldi was flanked by two other guys that Jim knew only by sight. “Mind if we join you?”

“Be my guest.” They were already pulling out chairs before he spoke. He noticed there were plenty of other empty tables. He dropped his eyes to his plate, picked up his doughnut and took another bite. Suddenly, it seemed dry and tasteless. “Anything I can do for you guys?”

Rinaldi leaned forward. “There’s been talk. People are noticing stuff.”

“Yeah?” Jim’s heart sank. “What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff like how you and Sandburg still are living together. Stuff like there’s a rumour going around he’s going to be your partner when he graduates from the Academy.” Rinaldi smirked and his henchmen muttered agreement. “There’s been talk. People are saying there must be a reason why you didn't kick his ass to the curb after that press conference.”

“Look, people talk.” Jim could hear the defensiveness in his voice. “It’s all bullshit-”

“Hey, don’t need to tell me, man.” A genuine smile broke across Rinaldi’s face. The other two echoed it. “Look, I just wanted you to know, we’ve got your back. Of course if there’s any time you feel like, you know, being more public about it, well, that’s fine. But until then, we reckon it’s nobody’s business except yours and Sandburg’s. Am I right?”

Jim nodded, grinning in relief. “Yeah. Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

***

By the time Blair arrived from Tecoma, Jim had everything organised. It was, maybe, a little sad how much he looked forward to having Blair home at the weekends, but right now he didn't care. He heard the elevator creak its way up from the lobby and thought about going to open the door for Blair, but that was maybe just a tad too needy. He went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of nicely chilled beers just as the key turned in the lock.

“I thought I’d ord-“

Duffel slung over one shoulder, Blair marched past him, stone faced, and straight into his room. The door slammed behind him.

Okay…

Jim waited for about thirty seconds then strolled over to Blair’s bedroom and tapped on the door frame with one of the beer bottles. “Had a bad day?”

The door opened abruptly. Blair stared at him incredulously. “A bad day? Is that the best you can do?” He snatched a bottle out of Jim’s hand and stalked past him into the kitchen. “Yes, Jim, I've had a bad day.”

Clearly, it was Jim’s fault. Whatever ‘it’ was. “I’m… sorry?” he offered tentatively.

Blair rolled his eyes and took an angry swig of his beer.

It was time to take control of the situation. “Look, why don’t we sit down and just discuss this like reasonable human beings?” And maybe he’d find out what he’d actually done… 

Blair muttered under his breath but at least he headed towards the couch. He didn't sit, though, just stood fidgeting at the far end. Jim went over and stood a few feet away. Just in case. He waited, knowing damn well Blair wouldn't be able to keep his silence for long.

“You know it’s gonna be all over the PD by now?” Blair flung his arms out. Fortunately, he’d drunk enough of the beer that it didn't spill. “Why the hell did you have to come out to Rinaldi, of all people? He’s told everybody! That bitch couldn't keep a secret to save his life.”

Oh, dear god… the thought of his sentinel abilities being public knowledge made his gut churn. “I… I didn't. I mean… he said-”

“He said.” Blair repeated his words with awful sarcasm. “And you believed him? Don’t you know he was responsible for outing Crawford back in September?”

“Crawford? What’s he…” Jim stopped, swallowed, blinked a couple of times. He remembered something about Crawford being gay, but… Gay? That’s what this was about? “But I-”

Blair wasn't listening. “And you know what really steams me? You told Rinaldi, and not me!” He tapped his chest. “Me, Jim. Your best friend. Your roommate, for fuck’s sake! All these years, and I have to find out through the grapevine-”

“Blair, listen. I didn't-” He staggered back as Blair flung himself onto his chest, arms twining around his neck. “Blair, I’m not-” Blair’s tongue in his mouth silenced anything else he could have said. 

Wow.

He brought his hands up and grabbed two fistfuls of Blair’s springy hair. It tickled his palms deliciously, but he barely noticed. What he noticed was the overpowering wash of pheromones that rose from Blair’s body and the lively activity of Blair’s agile tongue against his own. By the time Blair had finished with him, speech was the last thing on his mind.

A firm shove sent him reeling back until his calves hit the couch. Jim sat, involuntarily, still panting a little. “Blair… I…”

“How many guys have you…” Blair swarmed over him, straddling his thighs while his fingers got busy with Jim’s shirt buttons. “Why notme, dammit, Jim? It should have been me.” He pushed Jim’s shirt aside and began to kiss his chest, hands spreading out around his ribs before sliding lower.

He ought to say something, Jim supposed, though he couldn't actually think of anything other than “What the fuck?”. Or, possibly, “I’m not gay”, which was becoming less viable by the second. Blair was muttering something about “four years, dammit” against his collarbone.

“I’m sorry, babe. I should have told you sooner.” Jim twisted them both around, dropping back to lie on the couch with Blair sprawled on top of him. It was true enough, he thought, as Blair squirmed against his erection and simultaneously latched onto his nipple. He really, really wished he had told Blair sooner. It was also the only honest thing he could say that wouldn't have Blair sitting up and demanding to talk about What It All Meant.

That would have to happen, he supposed, and sooner rather than later. But just then Blair’s fingers got nimble with the zipper of his jeans and Jim decided another ten – or twenty – minutes delay wouldn't hurt either of them.


End file.
